It is with gratitude that I write this letter to let you know that I will no longer be writing a parenting blog for The Windsor Star. Over the last year-and-a-half you have been witnesses to the exciting, heart-breaking, hysterical and bizarre goings-on in my family life. I have had the pleasure of reading your comments – the good, the bad, and the ugly! I have enjoyed sharing my stories with you.

While I will not be blogging for this newspaper, I will still be blogging about my family-life via the Blogher. As well, for those of you writers out there, I will still be posting on my personal blog and my Facebook page. (Links are all below.) I welcome you to continue to read my words if you are inclined! In an effort to spend more time working on my novels, I will be blogging less, but with a solid attempt at consistency!

Thank you to The Windsor Star for giving me the space in your newspaper to write about my family! Thank you readers for reading! I do hope that everyone has a healthy, fruitful and love-filled 2013 – and beyond.

]]>http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/not-stopping-just-moving-but-farewell-nonetheless/feed0authorvanessashieldsTaking Your Kids to the Symphony – A Musical Must!http://blogs.windsorstar.com/entertainment/taking-your-kids-to-the-symphony-a-musical-must
http://blogs.windsorstar.com/entertainment/taking-your-kids-to-the-symphony-a-musical-must#commentsWed, 02 Jan 2013 21:25:26 +0000http://blogs.windsorstar.com/?p=109196]]>There is something about classical music that affects my body and soul in a way that only it can. I get this lump in my throat that builds a house there and moves in until the performance is complete.

Before the symphony has even begun, as the musicians are practicing that tough run or that favorite adagio, before the collective swoops together in unison under the flowing arms of the suited Maestro and his magic stick – I’m basically a swallow away from a complete sobbing breakdown.

I wondered what my kids would think of me, tears streaming down my cheeks, as we sat and listened and watched the Windsor Symphony Orchestra present Holiday Pops: A Windsor Nutcracker at The Capitol Theatre a few Sundays ago. On the other hand, this was their first experience at the symphony. Maybe they would get the lump in their throats as well and share my tearful expression of gratitude that I experience when I go to the symphony.

I was offered two suggestions before bringing the kids to the symphony: 1) sit near an exit – just in case and 2) listen to the music prior to the performance so the kids could familiarize their ears to the music. Well, we sat in the seats closest to the aisle exit, so I could check that off. But I made a conscious decision to not have the kids listen to the music before we got there. I had a feeling that if I did so they wouldn’t want to go at all. Instead, we talked up the symphony by its surroundings and other offerings.

We told the kids we were going to a beautiful, big theatre to listen to music. We told them there’d be hot chocolate and snacks. We told them we could get close to the stage and look at the musicians and instruments. In doing so, they were as excited to see the show as I was when we arrived.

Both Jett (he’s 6) and Miller (she’s 4) were impressed by the size and beauty of The Pentastar Theatre, which was overflowing with a sold-out crowd. The stage looked lovely studded with musicians and their instruments, and surrounded by wood veneer-paneled walls and ceilings, warmly lit by pot lights. The energy in the theatre was inviting and intimate. I was impressed with the transformation.

Upon sitting in our seats, I was asked the following:

“When’s the singing?”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Why do they wear black and white?”

As we took off layers of hats, mits, coats and sweaters, I did my best to answer the kid’s questions. Then the hubby brought the kids to the stage for a closer look at it, and the musicians and their instruments. Jett breathed out a ‘wow’. However, as we walked back to our seats, Jett was starting to understand that there wouldn’t be any singing. He saw me pull out my notebook and pen, and immediately asked me why he couldn’t bring his book. I let him draw a picture in mine in few minutes before the lights dimmed and the orchestra silenced.

Looking around at the audience showed me that our kids were two of maybe ten. Luckily, there was a little boy sitting to my left. At least our kids could see that they weren’t alone in this new experience.

This particular presentation: Holiday Pops: A Windsor Nutcracker included pieces by Johan Strauss and Engelbert Humperdinck (whose name the kids are still repeating with giggles) in the first half, followed by Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker (Act II) in the second. Conductor Cristian Macelaru led the orchestra vibrantly.

And so the music began. Violins found welcoming necks. Horns and clarinets found waiting lips. Fingers pulled and plucked and danced over long bass necks. Miller looked around. Jett fidgeted. I did my best to keep the lump in my throat from erupting into tears. By the end of Die Fledermaus: Overture, Jett’s arms were crossed over his chest all ‘I-don’t-wanna-listen’. He said, “Was that all?”

After applause, Conductor Macelaru spoke about how music is like a part of your family. I smiled in agreement. Then he said “Englelbert Humperdink” and he had both Jett and Miller in a fit of hysterics. It was enough to get them to pay attention. The second piece performed was a lullaby from Hansel and Gretel in three excerpts. Miller was on my lap at this point. The music was soft. Gentle. The tops of the string-section bows moved in unison like the hair on the back of neck, rising and falling with the energy of the piece. While I was sweetly chilled, Miller was sweetly lulled to sleep. So were several others in the audience. And that was good, I think. After all, it was a lullaby.

We can’t deny our physical reactions to music. At least, I can’t. When going to a symphony, we’re not just hearing the music but we’re seeing it too. While this particular piece made people close their eyes and melt into sleep, it made me watch harder. As did the following piece, Stauss’ ‘Kaiser Walzer’.

I saw the way the light smiled on the shiny curves of the instruments. The way the conductor’s curly hair bounced as his shoulders rose and fell, his arms pushing and pulling notes out of the air. I counted the grins on the musician’s faces as their eyebrows rolled. Knuckles and fingers stood at attention, can-caning finger legs whipping out, pulling in.

My eyes found the harp through my ears. The harp. What an instrument. It looks like it fell from heaven, from the grip of a giant’s hand. It leaned on the musician’s shoulder; it’s curved back reaching beyond the length of the musician herself. It reached above the heads of the rest of the orchestra musicians like it was reaching for home. I’m not sure what came first – dreams or a symphony to bring them to life through the sounds of the harp? Does it matter? The harp is the voice of beautiful dreams.

I think the intermission was a dream come true for the kids. They were ready to wake up (Miller slept through the waltzes), run around and hunt for snacks. Jett told me he liked the big room and looking at the instruments. He said his favourite was the bass, but that overall, he didn’t really like it. It was too loud. I stifled my laugh – too loud? Says the kid who spends most of his life yelling. I think for him, the listening and sitting still was overpowering the hearing and watching.

When I think about it though, I don’t remember how old I was when I made the distinction between listening and hearing – especially when it came to music. Classical music especially. I certainly was much older than six-years old. I thought Jett did great. Miller too.

The second act promised more action – live dancing to accompany the music. And we knew one of the dancers too! Needless to say, I was extremely grateful for the added bonus of dancers because I’m not sure the kids would have been able to sit through three more movements of classical music without them.

During intermission we had hot chocolate and chips, stretched our legs, went to the bathroom, and went back to our seats. The kids were excited, sitting on the edge of their seats. As the symphony expertly played Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker: Act II, Miller’s arm shot up like she was a conductor herself! Then she turned to me and asked: “Where is the music coming from?”

The question took me by surprise. For there she was moving her body to the beat, clearly watching and mimicking what she was seeing – and yet she hadn’t made the connection that what she was seeing was what was making the music. Incredible. I told her that the people on the stage playing the instruments were the people making the music. She gave me an “Oh,” and continued watching.

Jett asked me when the dancers were coming out about eighteen times before they came out. Ballerinas from Janice Brode’s School of Dance came out first. The kids were ecstatic, all giant smiles and joyful jumping as they watched the dancers. With each shift in music came a shift in dance performance, in emotion and energy. From ballerinas to gymnasts to contemporary dancers, the visual accompaniment to the WSO was truly spectacular.

Miller rocked her head back and forth, slapped her knees with her hands. Jett perked up when he recognized the music he was hearing as the music he’d heard in the film Home Alone. I felt happy and inspired. And then it happened.

Jett reached his little hands up to my face and said, “I love you, mommy.” There it was. I was waiting for Jett to have his physical reaction to what he was experiencing and I couldn’t have asked for anything better than him squeezing me and telling me he loved me. Like the lump in my throat, that at that point broke into tears of happiness, Jett had been affected enough by the music and the dancing that he felt love enough to express it.

I didn’t dwell on the moment or point it out to him. I simply let it happen, soaked in it, and kept him involved with the performance. The music at this point was crashing in loud crescendos. Large cymbal smashing got Miller’s attention. She was thrilled. The music hit that place under my heart, in the spaces between my ribs. This is why I love the symphony. The heart remembers what classical music speaks. And Jett and Miller felt it too.

The music spoke to my kids, I’m sure of it. Even though by the last ten minutes of the performance we had to take Miller to the back of the theatre because she couldn’t sit still anymore. Even though when I asked Jett if he wanted to go to the symphony again he said, “No!” with strong assurance. I could see they ‘got it’ in their bodies and in their minds. They asked questions. They paid attention as much as their little bodies and minds would let them. More even.

We, the sold-out audience, gave the WSO, the dancers and gymnasts, and Maestro Macelaru a much-deserved standing ovation. The performance ended with a heart-breaking encore of ‘Silent Night’. Macelaru invited us to hum along. And the audience hummed. And it was…heavenly. In that transcendent way that classical music elevates the listener’s heart and soul, I think we can all agree that in those moments, being serenaded by the WSO and the thoughts we each carried in our minds as we hummed, we were all affected and connected by music.

We will definitely attend a Windsor Symphony Orchestra performance again. Whether it’s a date night event or a family event, the WSO offers audiences a unique, emotional and exciting entertainment option. For my family and I, we were each touched in ways that have marked our souls. Our kids have experienced a symphony experience that will grow up and out for the rest of their lives. And most importantly, they have begun a happy skip down the lane of musical experiences that includes this type of music: classical. The lane is better with classical music as part of the landscape.

For more information about the Windsor Symphony Orchestra, please click on the following links:

A Windsor Nutcracker (The symphony we attended – already passed, but here’s the line-up!)

]]>http://blogs.windsorstar.com/entertainment/taking-your-kids-to-the-symphony-a-musical-must/feed0WSO tickets. Photo by: Vanessa ShieldsauthorvanessashieldsThanks, Boba Fett.http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/thanks-boba-fett
http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/thanks-boba-fett#commentsFri, 21 Dec 2012 18:45:14 +0000http://blogs.windsorstar.com/?p=98159]]>How do you wake up in the morning? Phone alarm? Digital clock alarm? The sun? A boot to your throat by the chubby heel of your youngest who is asleep between you and your hubby?

Typically, I’m the second one out of bed in the morning. The hubby is usually up and out before the rest of us get up. He starts work early…and has the ease of showering, dressing, prepping and leaving in the peace that is the mornings before the kids wake up. Ahhhh….I remember the days.

My body’s inner clock wakes up every night around 3am. I have no idea why, but pretty much every night, my body jolts awake. I sit up or roll over to look at the glaring red lights of the digital clock on my bedside table, and it always says 3am. Or 3:04am. I go back to sleep of course. But not peacefully. I go back to sleep hoping that my body will wake itself up again around 7am so I can actually get up and start the day. (This is during the week, by the way. We sleep in on the weekends.) And I worry myself into a fit of chaotic dreams because I don’t want to sleep in and get up late.

After so many panicked, dream-infested sleeps, I decided I needed to get some sort of alarm clock and use it to wake me up. This way, I could just sleep and let something else have the task of waking me. Yes, the hubby tells me it’s morning when he leaves, but I go back to sleep. And fall right back into oblivion. So I needed something to wake me up.

Enter Boba Fett.

Jett wanted us to get him clock with an alarm on it so he could wake himself up in the morning. We bought him the Boba Fett alarm clock you see here. It’s pretty cool. It can stand. Sit. And when you press its helmet head, the clock screen lights up. Also, its head is the snooze button when you set the alarm. We set it all up, put it beside Jett’s bed, and waited for him to wake himself up. Yeah, that didn’t happen. The thing went off for five minutes. Right. Beside. Jett’s. Head. He didn’t hear it. The kid’s a deep sleeper.

Boba Fett made his way to my bedside table. When I have to get up and write, I set him for a time in the six o’clock world (anything before that is too early for me…I get up in the fives and I feel like puking. You too?).

He goes off like the trusty Star Wars bounty-hunting villain he is. And I press his head. Over and over and over…and over again. It drives my hubby bonkers.

I hear Boba Fett’s beeping. I press his head. I hear his beeping again. I press his head. Sometimes I take him into bed, curl him into my chest so I don’t have to reach to push his head. By the time I stop the madness, the hubby is red-faced and ready to break the darn clock-toy. In real-time, about 15 minutes has passed, but the beeps go off every two minutes. So, you get the repetition…

But I’m awake. Like actual ‘up’ awake. Everyone wins, as far as I’m concerned. Bobo Fett did his job. I’m awake and ready to start my day. The hubby has to get up anyway. I gently place Boba Fett on my bedside table, and get to writing.

That’s quite a stack you’ve got there, Mrs. Shields. Why thank you. Don’t I know it. See, I’m a voracious reader. My mind to books is what my tummy is to chocolate – never satisfied and bigger than what I can handle.

I love reading and would love to read every day for at least an hour – if I could. But I can’t. I just don’t have that kinda time and/or that kinda energy. Trust me, when I crawl into bed at night, I’d love nothing more than to crack open (yes, I crack book spines…and I also smell pages) a novel and read, read, re….eyes. closed. NOW. But, as you know, when you’re a parent and your body hits the bed, it wants to sleep. Eyes want to close. So getting any significant amount of reading done is a challenge, especially at night.

Needless to say, you can’t say I’m not prepared. There is always a stack of books on my bedside table awaiting my grasp. Nope, you will not find a Kindle or an E-reader on my bedside table. (Just can’t do it…) (The hubby says to ask the trees how they feel about my book stack…argh.)

Here’s what’s in my stack:

Hatchet by Gary Paulsen

Tender is the Night by F.Scott Fitzgerald

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein

This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway by The Finca Vigia Edition

The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Ernest Hemingway on Writing Edited by Larry W. Phillips

before i fall by Lauren Oliver

Son of a Witch by Gregory Maguire

You’ll notice some repetition in my stack. I’m head over heels in love with Fitzgerald and Hemingway. I can’t seem to get enough of them, and Ms. Stein, well, I think I am the main character in Woody Allen’s film ‘Midnight In Paris’. I feel a connection to Stein…like I wish live in an apartment in Paris that artists and writers flock to for food and words and love. What I wouldn’t give for a night on the town with the old gang in Paris…followed, of course, by a morning of writing in the cafe with Hemingway himself. A kid can dream…

I read young adult novels because that’s what I’m writing. Reading is research when you’re a writer, and research never stops. Whether I’m reading the ‘greats’ for inspiration or style or character development…or contemporary writers (also great) for plot structure or voice, reading is part of my job. It’s a double-whammy of work and pleasure.

Since the holidays are coming and people are expecting you to shower them in gifts, why not shower them is stories that will change their lives. Like Wicked by Gregory Maguire, the first book in the series about the land of Oz. Son of a Witch is book two, and I’m saving this read for the holidays when I know I’ll have time to let it take over my life. It’s one of those kinds of books.

Photo By Vanessa Shields

Here’s what I found in the living room a few nights ago:

Turns out Miller is into books too. Notice any favourites in her collection? Judy Blume, Paula Danziger, Lois Lowry, Roald Dahl, C.S. Lewis, Ann M. Martin, Karen Hesse, Louis Sachar, Avi, Eric Wilson and more. The books you see in the picture are the actual books I read when I was a kid. I saved them. I saved them because they changed my life. I knew when I read ‘Forever‘ by Judy Blume that I wanted to be a writer. I knew it in my bones. I remember that reading the highlight of so many of my days. I saved these books because of how they made me feel when I read them. I hope that when Miller and Jett read these books, they will change their lives too. These books, and the many others that line our shelves…or fill in our hard drives.

The holiday season is upon us. I say skip the undies aisle and head straight for the book store. There are adventures to be read.

]]>http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/bedside-book-stack-whats-on-your-bedside-table/feed0Photo By Vanessa ShieldsauthorvanessashieldsPhoto By Vanessa ShieldsThe Top of the Fridgehttp://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/the-top-of-the-fridge
http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/the-top-of-the-fridge#commentsWed, 05 Dec 2012 01:00:33 +0000http://blogs.windsorstar.com/?p=88724]]>If your house runs anything like ours, the top of the fridge is a sacred location. It houses all things that need to be or become ‘out of reach’ from the kids.

Take a look at the photo I snapped recently of the things on the top of our fridge. You can tell a lot about a family by what’s on the top of their fridge.

a) The basket of Halloween candy. This is a no-brainer. That much candy all together in one basket is trouble. It absolutely must be put in a location that cannot be reached by the vertically challenged: a.k.a.the sugar-feening mini-people who are our children.

b) The bowl of ‘lunch’ snacks. I had to put the snacks for the kid’s school lunches in this hard-to-reach place so they wouldn’t eat them. We needed to distinguish between snacks they can eat whenever and snacks that are just for school. The only way to do this was to put the school snacks up, up, up.

c) Gum. I recently blogged about giving the kids gum. That I’m definitely a pro-gum mum. Alas, this is not an item that I want in reach of the kids. If it is, they’ll eat it all in one day. Literally. I’ve seen them try. Chew a piece for two minutes, spit it out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Gah.

d) My mom’s cheaters. My mom left a pair of her cheater reading glasses here once so she’d have them when needed when she visits. Well, Miller got a hold of them and decided they were hers. She wore them all the time. The arms got stretched out. The lenses got so filthy I don’t know how she could see out of them. Furthermore, they were already so strong, I think Miller was seeing blurry from the start. Then – they altogether broke. After this happened, we replaced the cheaters, put them in a case and put it on the fridge.

It’s such a great place to put things, I tell you. And you know what? If the kids see you put something on the fridge, they know that they won’t likely be seeing it for awhile or at least without having to prove they deserve it.

What’s on the top of your fridge?

]]>http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/the-top-of-the-fridge/feed0image_1authorvanessashieldsMom, we need another bathroom!http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/mom-we-need-another-bathroom
http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/mom-we-need-another-bathroom#commentsMon, 26 Nov 2012 22:55:44 +0000http://blogs.windsorstar.com/?p=80546]]>We have one working bathroom in our house. I write ‘working’ because there are technically two bathrooms in our house, but only one of them is functional. About five months after we moved into our home, we had a major flood in the basement. It started in the bathroom that was down there. Since the clean-up and renovations, we haven’t put the bathroom back together.

I know that at some point we will re-do the bathroom downstairs and I’ll get a laundry room that will make Martha Stewart jealous. The thing is that ‘some point’ isn’t in the near future. Like, at all. So we have one full bathroom that we all share. Four of us. No biggie, right?

The story I’m telling myself is that as long as we have both bathrooms working by the time the kids are in double digits, we’ll be good. I’m assuming that at some point, the kids will ‘own’ one bathroom and the hubby and I will use the other.

While Jett, Miller and I were all brushing our teeth in the bathroom over the weekend, Jett said to me (mouth full of toothpaste bubbles),”Mom, we need another bathroom!”. He’s six. Still four years away from a double-digit age. And he’s already begging for another bathroom.

With Miller standing on her stool, Jett standing behind her and me behind him, let me tell you, it gets crowded quickly. And the kids get territorial with the sink. They each want to be in the centre of it. They each want to control the tap and the cup.

It’s not so bad, really. In fact, I kinda like it. I like that we all squeeze in and see who can make the most toothpaste bubbles. I like that with a few stealthy moves, we can all get our business done without making too much of a mess.

One of the reasons we purchased the house we live in was because it had two bathrooms. Of course, no one expects a flood be it caused by poor sewers or mother nature. The renos will wait. We’ll continue to huddle and maneuver till then. I won’t mind.

]]>http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/mom-we-need-another-bathroom/feed0authorvanessashieldsGo outside and scream – what our kids teach ushttp://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/go-outside-and-scream-what-our-kids-teach-us
http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/go-outside-and-scream-what-our-kids-teach-us#commentsWed, 14 Nov 2012 23:00:20 +0000http://blogs.windsorstar.com/?p=80598]]>Sometimes I think we should all go outside and scream. And take lessons from our kids while we’re at it.

When I drop the kids off at school in the morning, I watch where they go, who they play with and what they do. Parents, next time you’re doing the drop-off, you should take a look and see what’s going on. We can learn so much from our children.

So, I’m standing around waiting for the bell to ring and all around me are running, skipping, hopping, standing, LOUD kids. Doesn’t matter what age they are – all of them are making some sort of loud noise. The younger they are, the more screaming they do. Miller (she’s four) plays tag with her friends and they don’t so much ‘tag’ each other as they run around, wave their arms and scream-laugh. It’s like they’re so thrilled to be a participant in the game that they can’t help but laugh like mini-mad people. They’re all happy to be outside. They don’t care if it’s cold. If the sun is out or not. They are happy to be free to scream and run before school starts.

When’s the last time you just ran around and screamed? Maybe waved your arms around while you did it?

I took it upon myself to try it out. No, not right then in the school yard. I did it in the solitary confines of my backyard. I opened the sliding door, ran off the deck onto the grass, flailed my arms and screamed. The kids looked at me like I was nuts. And then they joined me. Soon we were all running around the yard, laugh-screaming and chasing each other. (I may or may not have peed a little. Not telling. I’ve got a serious mom bladder.)

You know what? I felt GREAT. I felt free. I felt young. I felt silly. I felt connected to the kids on a whole new level.

I was pointing out the University of Windsor one day as we drove past. I told Jett that I went to school there to learn, and that sometimes I teach there. He got that perfect pensive look on his face that he gets, and then asked me: “Are you still learning, mom?”

What a great question! I told him yes, always. He said: “Can even teachers still learn? And moms?” I had tears in my eyes. I told him that I’m always learning and that he teaches me all the time. Especially when he asks brilliant questions like that.

I tell ya. Couple running outside and screaming with a mind-boggling conversation with your six-year-old child – and what you will learn will knock your socks off. Way off.

]]>http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/go-outside-and-scream-what-our-kids-teach-us/feed0authorvanessashieldsUnleashing Your Inner Rock Star Part Ihttp://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/unleashing-your-inner-rock-star-part-i
http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/unleashing-your-inner-rock-star-part-i#commentsWed, 25 Jul 2012 22:10:25 +0000http://blogs.windsorstar.com/?p=39587]]>If performing in an open mic show is on your bucket list then you and I have that in common. How many times have you been singing in the shower or in the car, and you’ve thought to yourself, ‘hey, I can sing!’? Have you ever sang your kids to sleep at night? Belted out a Twinkle Twinkle or a Call Me, Maybe?

I’m a firm believer that everyone can sing. It’s not the singing part that’s scary for me, however, it’s the getting up in front of a crowd (of friends, family, peers – the kids are a kind and loving bunch) and singing that makes my gag reflexes quiver. But when has being scared ever stopped me?

I’d like you to join me on my journey to unleash my inner rock star. I know as a mom I can rock the vacuum, the dishes, and the laundry, but can I rock the mic? I’m gonna say: Yes. (There go my gag reflexes.)

I’m going to document with words and photos as I rehearse and prepare for the open mic night I plan on doing. By the end of the sumer. Pinky swear. I’m going to give you lists about what I do so that if you’re interested in doing the same, you’ll have somewhere to start.

So where did I start?

Here goes:

How to Unleash Your Inner Rock Star Part I

1) Say it out loud. Like a rock star. Announce to your family or to your reflection in the mirror (at least): I am a rock star. Say it like you mean it. If you say it like you mean it, the family will be on board. And your kids will think you’re awesome. It’s a great gift you’ll be giving them, your inner rock star-ness will help them unleash their own.

2) Think about the songs you love to sing. Get the lyrics. Get the music. Print or write it out. Put it in a folder. Think about what you’d like to wear. From hair to shoes, from head to toe, if you’re gonna sing like a rock star you might as well look like one too.

3) Find a musician or back-up band or musical instrument. Okay, so this may be the toughest part but it has to be done. I suppose you could rock your mic a cappella, but it sure feels more rock star-ish if you’ve got at least a guitar to join you on stage. My friend Dominic is my rock partner in crime. He’s been the star in my rock star since high school. He’s super talented, super patient, and he said I could write about him in this blog. GAH. Did I mention he’s a star?

4) Commit to a rehearsal schedule. (Yeah, ’cause you aren’t doing enough already, right?) Do your best to create the system that will be used at the location of the open mic. For example, if you know you have to sing into a mic and there’s a sound system, see if you can get these things for at least one of your rehearsals. It’s amazing how a mic can help with your vocal sassy-ness.

5) Commit to a date and location when and where you’ll perform. There are many bars in Windsor and Essex County that have open mic nights. Off the top of my head…Phog Lounge, Villains Beastro, and Milk Coffee Bar all have open mic nights.

7) Get started with rehearsals. Here are some pictures of my first rehearsal.

We set up shop in the basement playroom among the mess that the kids refuse to clean up. No worries. We just made room for our make-shift performance area. Easy-peasy.

Dominic brought not one but two fancy guitars and two amps. I used the mic from our karaoke machine to sing into.

8) Laugh. My goodness laugh A LOT. You’ll sing off tune. You’ll mess up the words. And it will be SO MUCH FUN.

Stay tuned for more mom rock star unleashing.

]]>http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/unleashing-your-inner-rock-star-part-i/feed0authorvanessashieldsimage_2image_1image_3Is Nonno in heaven?http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/children-at-funerals
http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/children-at-funerals#commentsTue, 06 Nov 2012 19:30:51 +0000http://blogs.windsorstar.com/?p=70115]]>My grandfather passed away on September 22nd. It was an immense loss in our family. I’m still feeling the loss very deeply.

Prior to his passing, we (myself, Jett, Miller and the hubby) visited my grandparents (nonno and nonna to me and bisnonno and bisnonna to the kids) every Sunday. Unless we were out of town, we visited without hesitation. I spent most of my Sundays as I was growing up with my grandparents, and I wanted to instil the same tradition with our kids.

When my nonno was admitted to the hospital, the hubby and I discussed whether or not we’d bring the kids to visit him. We agreed it was extremely important that the kids did visit. In my heart, whether I was admitting it out loud or not, I knew he wouldn’t be alive for much longer because of his severe illness. I wanted the kids to be able to see him, visit him like they would if he was at home…give them the opportunity to be with him before he passed. Even though they had no idea how ill he was…or that these visits with him would be their last.

I wanted them to visit so my grandfather (their great-grandfather) had the opportunity to say his own goodbye. We never actually talked about this, my grandfather and I, but we both knew that it was time to say goodbye. And the last visit we had with him where the kids were there also, we were able to take this beautiful photo:

You can see that everyone is smiling. My grandfather sat up. He was alert. He was thrilled to see the kids. And he didn’t just sit up. He just wasn’t alert. Until the kids came in.

I wasn’t worried about bringing the kids into a hospital. A place filled with potential illness and loss. A place filled with hope and new life. We heard music over the loud speakers when babies were being born. I didn’t want the kids to think of a hospital as a place to fear.

I was worried about how my grandfather looked. I was worried that the kids would look at him and he would look sick. Different. And therefore, somehow scary to them. But, and I thank goodness for this, my grandfather never lost his handsome features in his last days. He remained looking like himself. Which is rare with stage four pancreatic cancer.

We didn’t tell the kids specifics about what nonno was sick with. We just told them he was sick and that he needed their love, everyone’s love – in extra doses. They understood this. They accepted this. And their last visit was truly lovely.

I have to keep stopping when I’m writing this because I’m crying and I can’t see the words as I type them. I keep remembering how my nonno’s face found peace and joy when the kids were with him. How he would make funny faces with Miller. How the only time I ever heard him say ‘I love you’ was to her. They had a special bond, the two of them.

Miller is four-years-old. I’m not sure how much about her nonno she’ll remember. Jett is six. He may remember more. I certainly hope that they’ll be able to look at the photos of nonno that we have in the house and remember him. At least feel the love he had for them in their hearts when they see his face.

The first time we were all at my grandparent’s house after he passed, and his chair was heavily empty, we watched to see what the kids would say. Miller stared at the chair. She looked around. She looked at me, and asked, “Is nonno in heaven?” Which made us all cry and smile and believe that yes, yes he is in heaven.

Now, they refer to nonno as an angel. Miller will tell stories with nonno as the main character in heaven. Jett will put his arm around me when I’m crying because I miss my nonno, and say, “Don’t worry, mommy. He’s in heaven. He loves us from there.” And then I cry more.

As a parent, I’m very, very aware of how we speak about, react and respond to death. The kids are always watching and paying attention. It was extremely important to me/to us that the kids were aware of what was happening with nonno. That they understood, if only in simple terms, that we die. In simple terms for them means that we are not here anymore. We are not sitting in our favourite chair watching America’s Funniest Home Videos. We are in heaven…which we explained to the kids as being a place where everything you love is. Miller may very well think it’s a giant art room. Jett may very well think it’s made of Lego. We can remember the people who are there by loving them.

Miller did ask if she could go to heaven too. A valid question. And one it pained me to answer because I never want to think about the reality of the answer. “Yes, you’ll go. But not now. Not for a long, long time.” I told her.

We miss you and love you, nonno.

]]>http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/children-at-funerals/feed0authorvanessashieldsbisnonnoGum – to chew or not to chew?http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/gum-to-chew-or-not-to-chew
http://blogs.windsorstar.com/life/gum-to-chew-or-not-to-chew#commentsWed, 31 Oct 2012 17:45:07 +0000http://blogs.windsorstar.com/?p=75312]]>I found a chunk of chewed Juicy Fruit stuck to the edge of the red desk in our living room this morning whilst I was gathering empty juice box containers.

I’m not sure how long the chunk of gum was there. It was hard. Dry. Basically gross. And, in all honesty, it’s not the first chunk of dried up gum I’ve found stuck to a furniture piece in our living room.

Why keep giving the children gum then, you ask yourself? It’s a valid question. Our kids are 4 and 6 years old. Old enough to understand of the concept of ‘don’t swallow’, and ‘this is how you chew’, so I feel pretty confident that it’s not unsafe to give them gum. If they ask for it.

Here’s my take on gum.

Firstly, it’s helped me out of many a jam. Tired, cranky kids after a long day of playing/learning at big school do not want to run into the grocery store for milk, bread and fruit on the way home. They are not thrilled about this endeavour which has to happen sometimes. They are, however, thrilled about chewing gum. Therefore, I offer these tired, cranky kids a stick of gum before entering the store, and they are happy to join me.

When we were in Florida visiting Disney World, and waiting in lines for hours for rides that took 89.2 seconds, gum made the waiting bearable and fun.

Yes, I have sugarless gum available, but they usually choose Juicy Fruit. The sticks. And I often have snack options available when we’re traveling long ways or if we’re doing full-on groceries, and the kids will choose gum over the snack.

We haven’t had gum in anyone’s hair as of yet. I’ll take a dried chunk stuck to a piece of furniture before a chunk in the kid’s lovely locks, thank you.

Secondly, it’s got less calories in it than a granola bar, a Bear Paw, or even fruit. I’m not saying it takes the place of fruit, by any means. And I’m making sure that the kids are brushing their teeth at least twice a day to help keep cavities away. What I’m saying is that, for us, gum has proven to be a positive choice in snack options for our kids.

I don’t remember how old I was when I first started chewing gum. I know I chewed all through high school. Trident was my favorite. Spearmint flavour.

I’m grateful that we haven’t had any choking incidents with gum. I am acutely aware of how easily this can happen. If there’s any running or major movements going on, the gum gets thrown in the garbage. Or stuck to a piece of furniture, apparently.

The gum itself is kept away from the kids so they can’t take a piece whenever they want. This way, I always know when and how much they are having. Unfortunately, I’m not always aware of where they’re putting it when they’re done.